


The Seduction of St. Etienne.

by JamieTheBastard



Category: H.P. Lovecraft. At The Mountains of Madness. Cthulhu Mythos.
Genre: H.P. Lovecraft. The Necronomicon. R'yloth K'than Shuggarath. At The Mountains of Madness.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10421940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieTheBastard/pseuds/JamieTheBastard
Summary: A Lovecraftian tale set in 19th century London. A loose prequel of sorts to At The Mountains of Madness. Contains Drug Use. Scenes of Graphically Grotesque Cosmic Horror. Arcane Lovecraftian Weirdness.





	1. Where Angels Fear to Tread.

Inspired by the works and philosophies of H.P. Lovecraft.  
  
"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far".

H.P. Lovecraft. "The Call of Cthuhlu".

Doctor James Finch.  
London. 1892.

  
It was in my twentieth year that I first encountered Antoine St. Etienne, an American of French descent. My great-uncle, William Bexley-Finch, who had emigrated to America before I was born, had recently died at the age of sixty nine. I had only met my great-uncle once as a boy, when he had returned to his native England on a honeymoon with his beautiful young American wife. Bexley-Finch was left a widower not long after the couple's return to America, his young wife had died after a brief illness. My great-uncle was heart broken and as he never remarried or fathered any heirs, his estate was bequeathed to me. I had had some correspondence with my great uncle in the previous few years, especially concerning my plans to study medicine and become a physician, and he had recommended the Miskatonic University's medical school in the town of Arkham, Massachussetts, where he had settled with his ill-fated young bride. Miskatonic University was as prestigious and highly regarded as Harvard or Princeton.

  
My decision was made when I travelled to America to claim my inheritance, the brilliant young physician Doctor Allen Halsey had recently been made Dean of Miskatonic's medical school (the youngest man to ever be appointed to such a prestigious position), and I enrolled forthwith for the opportunity to study under such an eminent physician. It was at Miskatonic University that I first met Antoine St. Etienne, a student of philosophy and esoteric pre-Christian religions. We soon became firm friends and many a long night was spent at my great-uncle's house in Arkham debating philosophy, politics and religion. To understand St. Etienne's personal philosophy and the part it played in the horrific events that were awaiting us in the future, I will quote my old friend: _"All I say is that I think it is damned unlikely that anything like a central cosmic will, a spirit world, or an eternal survival of personality exist. They are the most preposterous and unjustified of all the guesses which can be made about the universe, and I am not enough of a hairsplitter to pretend that I don't regard them as arrant and negligible fantasies. In theory, I am an agnostic, but pending the appearance of radical evidence I must be classed, practically and provisionally, as an atheist._ " (I often teased my friend on the irony of a dedicated atheist such as he having the family name of a Christian saint). To clarify my own personal philosophy, I class myself as an agnostic. I believe that there must be some higher power at work in the universe, but I have found the contradictions and hypocrisies present in the Christian religions unacceptable to a logical, rational mind as did St. Etienne, although he actually came to despise Christianity with a venomous passion, whereas I was rather indifferent to the church and it's teachings.

  
In the course of time I graduated from Miskatonic University with full honours. I had taken a bride, a young nurse, Mary Elizabeth Sawyer, and we had returned to my native London where after completing my internship I set up my medical practice. St. Etienne had always envisioned primitive "savages" as being aware of supernatural knowledge unknown or lost to civilized man, and it was in his quest for spiritual enlightenment that he embarked on many expeditions to study and take part in the pagan rituals and drug induced states of mind of native shamans and witchdoctors. From the sweat lodges and rituals of the Apache Indians, the peyote and jimson weed induced spiritual states of the South American Yaqui Brujo's, and the Dreamtime Corroborees of the Australian Aborigines, to ingesting Psylocibin mushrooms with a strange sect of Tibetan monks in a remote mountain top monastery, St. Etienne's expeditions had taken him far and wide. I received irregular correspondence from my old friend detailing his experiences and his belief that he was standing at the threshold of spiritual revelation and enlightenment (this belief I suspected was inspired by the substances consumed in these pagan rituals). I received irregular correspondence from my old friend detailing his experiences and his belief that he was at the threshold of spiritual revelation and enlightenment. The last correspondence I received from St. Etienne detailed an expedition to the Orient. In the vast, sparsely populated regions of Northern China he had discovered an ancient manuscript, purportedly written in 950 BC. It was in Hong Kong where he had the ancient manuscript translated, that my companion of old seemingly vanished from the face of the earth. My correspondences went unanswered, and enquiries with the authorities in Hong Kong yielded no clues as to the fate of St. Etienne. I concluded that my old friend had met with some misadventure or foul play and it was with some surprise that after many months of thinking him deceased, St. Etienne again made contact with me from right here in London.


	2. The Strange Tale of St. Etienne.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Finch is shocked to discover his old friend has become addicted to opium.

Upon answering a knock at my surgery door, I was confronted by a young messenger boy who bore a message from St. Etienne, sent from a boarding house in London's East End. I gave the young scallywag a shilling and proceded to read the cryptic message that bore my name and address.

"Finch, I find myself in dire circumstances and require your assistance forthwith. If you could attend me at your earliest convenience my old friend, at the address below. Tell no one of where you are going".  
Antoine St. Etienne.

As I had no more patients to attend that afternoon I resolved to visit my old companion immediately. I told my wife that I had to make a housecall on a recovering patient, locked my surgery and hailed a hansom cab, giving the driver the address of the boarding house where St. Etienne had his lodgings. The boarding house appeared quite rundown, my old friend had obviously fallen on hard times, and I assumed his "dire circumstances" were of the financial variety. The proprietor of the boarding house, a middle aged woman, Mrs Barnstable, a particularly vulgar specimen of humanity, obviously very fond of hard liquor, and she was it appeared quite objectionable when in her cups, she complained incessantly and resorted to the foulest of language of the kind that would make a sailor blush with embarrassment, as she showed me to my friend's room. I was shocked by the appearance of St. Etienne when he answered my knock, he had aged prematurely, his black hair had greyed considerably, he appeared haggard, there were large dark smudges around his eyes and he looked quite undernourished. The umistakable odor of opium smoke met my nostrils, and coupled with his appearance, I suspected my old friend had become physically dependent on the powerful drug, probably in China, and this had accounted for his apparent "disappearance" from Hong Kong some twelve months previously. After perfunctory greetings, St. Etienne bade me sit and after drawing on an opium filled pipe he exhaled the pungent smoke and began to relate a very strange tale.

"Upon my last expedition to Australia I studied the myths and legends of a remote Aboriginal tribe. Tribal lore passed down through the millenia, spoke of a "Rain of Fire From the Heavens", bearing a "Strange God". These legends told of a "Cursed Tribe" that worshipped this god, sacrificing many young men and women to this "deity". A great council of tribal elders from many tribes that inhabited the region was called and it's ruling was that this "Cursed Tribe" and it's diseased "God" must be destroyed. A large war party with warriors from many different tribes attacked the "Cursed Tribe" putting them and their God to death and cremating the remains. After my last expedition I spent some time back in Arkham, studying the large collection of occult literature in Miskatonic's extensive library. I found in that cursed tome penned by the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, the Necronomicon, vague references to a strange "God" that fell from the heavens in a "Rain of Fire" in ancient China, which a "Cursed Cult" worshipped and sacrificed the local villagers to. These references seemed to correlate with the salient points and time frame of the Aboriginal legends, and I began to suspect some connection between the two."

"The references in the Necronomicon alluded to a lost manuscript of forbidden knowledge, the K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang, attributed to this "Cursed Cult" who supposedly were eaters of human flesh. There was in addition an enigmatic name R'yloth K'than Shuggarath, and mention of two villages Zhengyu and Kweilow, in a remote region in Northeastern China known as the Plains of Leng. The maps of China I studied, both modern and ancient, contained no reference to this region or the two villages. I mentioned this in correspondence with one of my Chinese contacts, a man named Weng Chiang, and was surprised to learn he was aware of this region and indeed the village once known as Kweilow."

St. Etienne paused in his tale, retrieved a bottle of brandy and poured two generous measures. He handed me one, swallowed his in one mouthful and sat back down. I sipped my brandy, thinking to myself that as well as opium, he had also developed a dependence on hard liquor. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Many years previously Weng Chiang had become hopelessly lost in a blizzard whilst part of an opium smuggling expedition returning from the Mid East, and had stumbled, half frozen, upon a small village in an isolated valley. The inhabitants had nursed the smuggler back to health, and during his recuperation he had witnessed the funeral rites of an incredibly ancient holy man, Ling Chow, also known as The Wise One. Local legend told of the arrival of this wise man with a manuscript of holy scriptures over two thousand years ago. According to my Weng Chiang, the inhabitants of the village were very strange, but not eaters of human flesh. He assured me he could guide an expedition back to this village, and I organised an expedition to visit this area and search for the ancient manuscript."

From out in the hallway came a loud pounding, someone was attempting to rouse one of St. Etienne's neighbours. The pounding repeated followed by a slurring, drunken voice "Open up 'erbert, you owes me a pound ya bastard, I know ya there open up, I want me quid back" the drunken east ender knocked loudly on the door again, then staggered off down the hall muttering loudly about coming back later to collect his debt. The interruption over, my old companion resumed his tale.

"The Plains of Leng are a desolate, sparsely inhabited region in what had been, during the reign of the Western Zhou dynasty, the far north-eastern state of Bengwu. The journey through this blasted landscape was terrifying. At night we kept the campfires burning continuously, as wild animals of whose provenance I shudder to contemplate, howled and bayed in such a manner as to chill the blood. When we dared to sleep our rest was riven by nightmares of the most vivid, yet phantasmagorical malignancy. In time we reached the village, Yangzhou, which in ancient times was known as Kweilow, a village of poor peasant farmers whose ancestors had managed to eke out a sparse existence in the desolate region for thousands of years. The villagers were reluctant to let outsiders view the sacred manuscript, but with the incentive of the plentiful food supplies and trade goods we had gifted the village, and as a scholar of ancient religions I was allowed to study the manuscript, which of course was written in ancient Chinese, on the strict condition that I reveal no information on where I had encountered it. Over the course of many months I painstakingly made a detailed copy of all it contained."

St. Etienne again paused, filled his pipe and ignited it, drawing the smoke deeply into his lungs. I recognised the smell of Indian hemp this time, my old friend had, it appeared, developed a dependence on this drug as well as opium and liquor.

"My copy of the manuscript I had translated in Hong Kong, which you know, and it is here my tale really begins. It spoke of the Ancient Ones, a race of interstellar travellers, strange amphibious creatures, part animal, part vegetable that settled on earth millions of years before the rise of the primates. Their vast cities existed around the globe on land and undersea and only one of these cities actually still remains. A vast derelict stone city at the Antarctic concealed by a massive mountain range which dwarfs the Himalayas and the tallest known mountain ranges. The Ancient Ones created a race of slaves to assist in the construction of their Cyclopean stone cities, strange, nearly indestructible creatures known as Shoggoths, which were according to the Necronomicon: " _Formless protoplasm able to mock and reflect all forms, organs and processes, viscous agglutinations of bubbling black cells, rubbery fifteen-foot spheroids infinitely plastic and ductile, slaves of suggestion, builders of cities, more and more sullen, more and more intelligent, more and more amphibious, more and more imitative"_

As St. Etienne interrupted his story to refill his glass, I thought to myself that this tale sounded suspiciously like the "Scientific Fiction" stories written by that Herbert George Wells chap, invaders from Mars and suchlike. After downing another measure of brandy my old friend continued.

"There is some vague suggestion that the Ancient One's experiments in the creation of a food source and a slave race may have inadvertently been responsible for the evolution of all terrestrial life. The Ancient Ones were ultimately devastated and wiped out by a Nameless Terror that dwells in an even bigger mountain range beyond the ancient city. The Shoggoths, possessed of great longevity, their lifespans measure in thousands of years, survived this great catastrophe, and some still dwelt in the subterranean caverns beneath the great derelict city in the frozen wastes. Liberated from the telepathic control of the Ancient Ones these survivors grew to great size, vast black cylindrical behemoths hundreds of feet in length. Many Shoggoths had taken human form after encountering primitive man and over the next few millennia they migrated into central Asia, and settled in the desolate region known as the Plains of Leng. This humanoid offshoot were known as The Shoggothi, which ultimately divided into two opposing factions the K'than Shoggothi, the Cruel Ones, and the K'thuylgyr Shoggothi, the Benevolent Ones."

St. Etienne was again interrupted in his recollection, as Mrs. Barnstable clomped loudly through the hallway intent upon some errand, muttering drunken complaints and imprecations as she went.

"In 950 BC during the rule of the Western Zhou dynasty, the "Rain of Fire" occurred bearing the strange God, R'yloth K'than Shuggarath - The All-Knowing Beast, in proximity to a village on the Plains of Leng, Zhengyu. The K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang manuscript speaks of "Communion" with this "God" which confers ultimate spiritual knowledge on the recipient. The K'than Shoggothi were the high priests of the "Cursed Cult" which worshipped the strange creature from the stars, and as rumour told practiced human sacrifice to the alien God."

"When word of this strange new religion reached the Western Zhou Emperor Wu in his capital at Nanyang, he dispatched his soldiers to destroy this unearthly cult, it's diseased alien "God" and all it's disciples. The emperor's troops destroyed the monster and slaughtered most of the Shoggothi, K'than and K'thuylgyr alike, burning Zhengyu to the ground. Only thirteen Shoggothi managed to escape the slaughter, twelve K'than and one K'thuylgyr, Ling Chow. The K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang was lost to the K'than Shoggothi when the Zhou Emperor's soldiers pursued and drove them from China.............."

St. Etienne's eyes closed and his head sank slowly down until his chin was resting on his chest, I thought he had fallen into an opium stupor but after a few seconds his heavy lidded eyes opened and he lifted his head and continued.

"Ling Chow the leader of the K'thuylgyr Shoggothi, who had gained posession of the K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang manuscript, was rescued, given shelter and hidden from the Emperor's troops by the inhabitants of Kweilow. He was opposed to the Cursed Cult of the K'than Shoggothi, it's hideous God and it's loathsome rites. Ling Chow sought to hide the K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang, the only surviving historical record of "his" race, from the remaining K'than............"

My friend's thoughts were beginning to falter (he had consumed enough opium, hemp and brandy to render most men comatose), and his tale became somewhat disjointed and rambling. I will relate the rest of this unbelieveable tale from what I managed to decipher from his intoxicated ravings.

The K'than Shoggothi, now based in London (which are, according to St. Etienne, the same twelve K'than that survived the slaughter in 950 BC), discovered through their agents in Hong Kong that St Etienne had a copy and a translation of the K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang manuscript, which details the rituals and methods for resurrecting R'yloth K'than Shuggarath, the All Knowing Beast. Apparently the alien god can be reborn from an infusion of cells (which it seems can survive for thousands of years) from the original creature into a willing human host. To infect St. Etienne they used a small cutting of the original beast's flesh that had been preserved by the K'than. The rituals in the arcane manuscript summon the spirit of R'yloth K'than Shuggarath from the interstellar void and it posesses the fully transformed individual. They initiated St. Etienne into the cult and seduced him into becoming the conduit for this resurrection by promising him total spiritual enlightenment. For the dedicated seeker of enlightment my old friend is, it was an opportunity he couldn't resist, as he was led to believe he would merely "channel" the spirit of R'yloth K'than Shuggarath in an elaborate "Ceremony" conducted with psychoactive drugs, chanting and musical rituals, much like the many pagan ceremonies he had taken part in. Apparently though he has discovered he is to literally become the returned god itself, he believes that he is being slowly transformed into the All Knowing Beast. He attempted suicide a number of times by taking massive doses of laudanum, although these attempts were ultimately unsucsessful, he believed, due to the alien cells infecting him. He believed his prodigious consumption of opium, laudanum and brandy was retarding the transformation process significantly, and in a last rational attempt at seeking medical assistance he had contacted me.

St. Etienne took a large draught of brandy, which seemed to focus his wandering thoughts somewhat, and he made a coherent statement that was chilling in context to what was to occur some weeks later.

"I fear Finch, that my insatiable appetite for spiritual enlightenment has led to what may prove to be an horrific, loathsome and unavoidable fate. I now believe it may be too late to halt the diabolical process once begun"

St. Etienne rose and unbuttoned his shirt and I was quite unprepared for the sight that I beheld. The skin of the man's torso was leached of it's natural pigment, and had become semi-translucent, I could vaguely discern the organs within, and strange protuberances would stretch out the flesh briefly and then disappear. I examined the diseased area as closely as possible without touching it, due to the possibility of the affliction being contagious. I used one of my medical instruments to probe the afflicted flesh, it had a strange gelatinous consistency to it, coupled with a surface texture reminiscent of a snail or common slug. I had never encountered such a condition in all my years of medical practice. I carefully took a small cutting of the diseased skin from the man's torso and sealed it in a test tube which I placed in my medical bag. It seemed St. Etienne was only mildly discomfited by the procedure, probably due to the anaesthetic properties of the opium and liquor he had consumed. I hoped my esteemed colleague Doctor Wyatt, who had extensively studied rare tropical maladies in Burma and India, would be able to identify the condition afflicting my old friend. I urged St. Etienne to present himself at the nearest hospital immediately, not suspecting the hideous events which were to follow weeks later.

I was starting to feel distinctly lightheaded and I realised as the windows were tightly shuttered and the curtains drawn, the room was filled with a thick haze of opium and hemp smoke. I had to take my leave of my old friend or risk becoming stupefied by the drugs. I made my assurances that I would check up on him at my earliest convenience and bade St. Etienne farewell.

I contemplated hailing a cab but decided to walk so as to clear my head, and I pondered this strange tale as I made my way back to my surgery. How much, I wondered, of this fantastic story was fact and how much drug induced fantasy? St. Etienne was never the sort of fellow given to exaggerations or embellishments, he was one of the most rational and level-headed men I have ever known. His studies were dedicated to seeking ultimate truth, and I believed his discoveries on the accursed cult, it's arcane manuscript and what it allegedly contained were no exaggeration. But on his beliefs that he had been seduced by this degenerate cult of milennia old creatures to be the vessel for the return of their diseased god, I concluded that his prodigious consumption of opium and alcohol had led to a profound state of paranoid delusion, and he was at worst suffering from some extremely rare but entirely terrestrial disease he had contracted in the tropics. Little did I suspect that fate would conspire in such a cruel fashion to keep me from following up the strange disease afflicting my companion of old.


	3. At the House of the Black Lotus.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Finch is devastated by a personal tragedy.

One week after my meeting with St. Etienne I had passed on the skin sample and a description of the malady afflicting the unfortunate American scholar to my associate Dr. Wyatt, who promised to examine the sample and contact me when he had a firm diagnosis. My wife Mary and I had planned an evening's diversion, we were going to attend a "Demonstration of Polyphase Electric Principles" by the esteemed inventor Nikola Tesla. As we were preparing to leave there was a knock at the door, a messenger boy, an elderly patient of mine Mr. Cromwell required immediate attention. This required a prompt revision of our plans, my younger brother Jonas who had recently returned from a trip to Scotland would escort Mary to Tesla's exhibition in my stead and I would meet them at the theatre after attending the ailing Cromwell. I was detained for longer than I had expected, and finally returned home in the early hours to find the house empty, my wife and brother had not returned. As I was preparing to visit the hospital, suspecting my pregnant wife may have had a turn, there was a loud knock at the door. I opened it to reveal two men. "Doctor James Finch?" enquired the taller of the two men, and I acknowledged this was indeed so. "Inspector Paxton, Scotland Yard, this is Sergeant Barnsley. Sorry to disturb you at this late hour Doctor but unfortunately we bear bad news, may we come in sir?" I bade them enter, with a sick feeling in my stomach, and showed them into the parlour.

"It is my unpleasant duty to inform you that there has been a terrible accident in which two people were fatally injured. I am sorry to say the young lady expired immediately, the young gentleman died a short time later in hospital." Paxton paused briefly before continuing. "I am sorry to report that a colleague of yours who was on duty at the hospital, has identified them conclusively as your wife, Mary Elizabeth Finch, and your brother Jonas Finch".

The breath went out of me, my vision momentarily darkened and I staggered as if struck by a physical blow. Sergeant Barnsley took my arm, steadied me and sat me in an armchair, my mind was reeling. Inspector Paxton poured a generous measure of brandy from the decanter on the table and handed it to me, I downed half the glass and Paxton continued, my wife and brother had been trying to hail a hansom cab after Tesla's demonstration (they had reasoned correctly that I had been held up at Cromwell's and were returning home). Paxton explained that they had been run down in the street by an out of control brewery dray, he didn't go into detail but as a physician I had seen first hand the results of accidents involving the heavy carts and large horses and I could not prevent my mind from picturing the horrific injuries resulting from these accidents.  
The Inspector continued, "I regret sir that I must be the bearer of these tragic tidings, and I extend my deepest condolences. I understand this must be a profound shock, but if you are able I need to ask you a few questions of a sensitive nature", I nodded my assent. Paxton sat in the armchair opposite me and took a notebook and pencil from his jacket. The questioning began.

"You are associated with an American scholar by the name of Antoine St. Etienne?"

"I am" I replied.

"How did you come to be associated with this individual?"

"I met him in America at Miskatonic University where I studied medicine" Paxton favoured me with an enquiring look and I elaborated.  
"Miskatonic University is in a town called Arkham, in the state of Massachussetts" Paxton nodded slowly as he noted this.

"You visited the American a week ago at his lodgings..... (Paxton checked his notebook)....a boarding house run by one Mrs Barnstable?"

"I did. I was unaware he was in London until I recveived a message from him." I was having trouble keeping my mind focused on Paxton's enquiries.

"May I enquire as to what was discussed at that meeting?" Paxton continued.

"He told me of a recent expedition to China he undertook in search of an ancient religious manuscript"

As I answered Paxton's questions, I wondered what on earth this had to do with the tragic accident that had claimed my pregnant wife and younger brother. "I'm sorry Inspector but I don't understand the relevance of your questions as relates to the accident"

"As you may be aware a number of prostitutes have recently gone missing in the Whitechapel area and there is much public speculation on the return of the Ripper" Paxton replied. 

I acknowledged that I had read the recent reports by the press but hadn't given the matter much thought. Paxton continued, "I don't subscribe to this theory as the modus operandi doesn't fit with the Ripper murders, no mutilated remains have been found, no remains at all or indeed any evidence that the women have in fact been murdered, they are until conclusively proved to be deceased, listed as missing persons only".

According to Paxton there had been another abduction the night before and there was a witness to the latest abduction, a nightwatchman had seen a young prostitute taken by a "Gang of Orientals", men who supposedly had "eyes of purest black". This witness had gone missing, he hadn't been seen since the night of the abduction.

"You say it was a tragic accident Inspector but the nature of your questions lead me to believe you suspect foul play?" I asked as Paxton paused briefly.

Barnsley revealed that a police informant had come forward claiming to possess information linking the abductions to the Chinese district, as well as two names: St. Etienne and myself. I was seen, apparently, leaving Mrs. Barnstable's rooming house, followed by a man of Oriental appearance who unbeknownst to me had followed me home. The informant had insisted he would only divulge the evidence he allegedly had to Inspector Paxton who was unavailable at the time. The man was sent on his way by the duty sergeant he spoke to, as he was known as being very unreliable and a serial time waster, and told to come back the next day to see Paxton. By the time Paxton was given this

information, the headless corpse of the informant had been found floating in the Thames so he couldn't be questioned.

"This is not an uncommon fate for underworld informants, and is usually meant to send a warning to others" Paxton explained. "The damnedest thing was it looked as if the fellow's head had been chewed off by some wild animal, and the body was coated in a film of black slime." Barnsley observed.

Paxton explained that at the scene of the accident that had claimed my family members, a witness claimed to have seen two men of Oriental appearance with very strange eyes, and there was some suspicion that my wife and brother may have been pushed into the path of the runaway brewery dray, but there was no certainty, the witness could not be sure. This witness was under strict police protection. Paxton continued.

"All I have are damnable suspicions at the present, I'm afraid, no hard evidence and no possible suspects aside from the aforementioned men of Oriental appearance with strange eyes. My suspicions are that it was no accident and that you were the intended victim, as to why I cannot answer that as yet, but I believe it has something to do with your association with the American, if there is anything you can remember from your meeting that may have significance........?

"There was mention in the manuscript of a cult that practiced human sacrifice over two thousand years ago in ancient China". Paxton contemplated this. 

"Anything else?"

"St. Etienne believes this cult still exists"

Paxton made an entry in his notebook.

I thought that an ancient cult that practiced human sacrifice which seemed to me at least to have some superficial significance, was plausible. But human sacrifice to a "God" that fell from the heavens? Had this deranged cult really existed? Could it still exist? Possibly so I allowed, but I couldn't bring myself to accept that it was made up of men that are two thousand, eight hundred and forty two years old, who aren't actually human at all, or that St. Etienne was in the process of transforming into an alien "God". I didn't think it would be prudent to mention my friend's more outrageous paranoid beliefs. 

"I suspect it is part of a drug induced paranoid fantasy Inspector, nothing more. A product of prodigious consumption of opium, alcohol and Indian hemp, coupled with many years spent studying arcane and occult literature. You've established an Oriental connection, his belief may have some validity, why don't you question him yourself?"

"I should most like to question the man but it seems he has also disappeared. Three days after your meeting he was admitted to London hospital suffering from nervous exhaustion, delirium tremens, malnourishment, and in light of what you've told me probably opium withdrawal as well, although he was not immediately examined by a physician. He was observed leaving in the company of two Oriental gentlemen the same night and has not returned to his lodgings since. If he should contact you again........." he left the question unasked. "Of course Inspector I will inform you immediately" I replied.

Paxton closed his notebook and slipped it inside his jacket. He stood and spoke "That is all for now, I am sorry to have to question you at such an unfortunate time. Again my deepest condolences Doctor Finch" Paxton and Barnsley made their way to the door. "No need to get up sir, we will let ourselves out, my condolences also" said Barnsley. Paxton turned and addressed me "I would advise you to take care in public Doctor, I will assign two constables to watch your home and surgery round the clock. I don't wish to alarm you unduly yet I do believe that your life may be in jeopardy once the conspirators learn you weren't killed in the accident" and with that the two detectives left.

I got up, poured myself a generous measure of brandy and downed it in one swallow. My head was spinning, I was in a state of profound shock. I downed another brandy and another until the decanter was empty. The next thing I knew, sunlight was streaming through the open curtains and my head was pounding, I had obviously passed out still fully dressed, in the armchair. The bottle of vintage Kentucky bourbon I had brought back from America and carefully rationed to no more than three glasses annually, lay empty at my feet. What was I doing here passed out from a paralytic drunk in the parlour? Then it came back to me, Paxton and Barnsley's late night visit, the accident, Mary and Jonas. I broke down and wept uncontrollably.

Many friends and colleagues called to pay their respects in the weeks following the funerals, I existed in a semi morose state in this period, unable to clearly process the fact that the closest people to me in the world were taken from me in one cruel night. I found myself seeking the oblivion of alcohol far too regularly and I even had to dose myself with laudanum on a few occasions. The matter of St. Etienne was pushed to the back of my mind by these tragic circumstances. Two of my colleagues had taken over the care of my patients until I was recovered from my bereavement. A month after the funerals Dr. Wyatt called on me to pay his respects (He had been in Wales at the time of the funerals and had only just returned). At length the conversation turned to St. Etienne's strange malady, Dr. Wyatt had studied the skin sample at length, it was living tissue and shared some attributes with human skin, but he was emphatic in his belief that this "sample" had not been taken from a human being. "The damnedest thing is the wretched thing is still alive, immersed in formaldehyde, many weeks later. I do believe it is some mutant species of the common garden slug". Wyatt was convinced I had been the victim of an elaborate prank, a joke perpetrated by my old friend (a man definitely not given over to pranks and japes). I was unconvinced, I had seen the symptoms with my own eyes, no stage make-up could have duplicated what I had witnessed, I had cut the sample from his torso myself and what St. Etienne was suffering was entirely real, if unexplainable by modern science. My mind returned to Paxton's suspicions and I resolved to investigate the matter myself, I had to know if this damnable cult St. Etienne was involved with were responsible for the deaths of my loved ones.

My first avenue of investigation was St. Etienne's lodgings where I discovered he had still not returned. His objectionable landlady told me he hadn't been back to his room in weeks and owed her a considerable sum of money for the rent. Mrs. Barnstable's "housekeeping" skills were haphazard, her rooms were dirty and unkempt and although I could have raised some objection over the amount of back rent St. Etienne supposedly owed her, I paid her what she demanded, as I didn't have the energy or inclination to argue with the besotted woman over what to me were trifling amounts of money. I was glad to see the last of her, and would have happily paid twice the amount to still her shrewish tongue. Although my condition for paying the debt was my intention to inspect the room first, which Mrs. Barnstable assured me was still in the same condition in which my friend had left it.

I thoroughly searched my friend's room, but only a few insignificant personal trifles remained. As I was concluding that there were no clues to be found, I tripped over an unseen obstruction and upon closer inspection I noticed one of the floorboards was loose, it had obviously been removed and replaced, one corner of the board was sitting slightly above floor level and this is what had tripped me. I managed to prise it up with the aid of a stainless steel surgical implement from my medical bag, and discovered a cache of hidden papers labeled: "On R'yloth K'than Shuggarath and the motivations of the K'than Shoggothi" which I perused briefly before placing them in my medical bag. Of St. Etienne's reproduction and translation of the K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang manuscript, there was no sign. 

My task complete I payed Mrs. Barnstable St. Etienne's outstanding rent and the landlady suggested disparagingly that I seek out my old friend in the Chinese district as he had often been known to consort with those "ignorant heathen savages". I couldn't resist the compulsion to reply "Those ignorant heathen savages as you call them madam, had a thriving civilisation and a rich culture when our ancestors were still squatting in mud huts with bones in their hair" and with that I turned and walked away, not wanting the vile woman to have the last word. I heard her mutter indignantly as I walked away "Well I never, these educated toffs prefer consorting with heathens and savages rather than honest, god fearing white folk" she stomped back into her slovenly establishment and slammed the door.

I returned home to study the notes for any clues as to the whereabouts of St. Etienne or the K'than Shoggothi. The notes were in no systematic order, references were randomly made with no notes to explain their context. Much of the notes were simply delusional ravings, some were an indecipherable scrawl and many passages were in a strange language. There were pages with pencil sketches of bizarre creatures.

_"Met with Weng Chiang yesterday, I think I was followed. The Norwegian has fled, I suspect he has disposed of it by now, he will regret it when Weng Chiang sinks his sharp nailed talons into his treacherous, thieving hide"_

_"The Shoggoth's (in their original form) share many characteristics with the All Knowing Beast, both species reproduce by fission, which leads me to suspect a common ancestry? The Shoggothi in human form have lost the ability to reproduce."_

The following lines and translations were on different pages of the notes, the first line is of a different language than the second two, which I assumed was the language of theK'than Shoggothi, as they contain a definite Chinese element. Nothing in the notes explains who or what the exact nature of dead Cthulhu or his Spawn might be, nor where sunken R'lyeh may lie. One of the pencil sketches is of the head of a creature with an octopoid appearance, pulpy and rounded, two inhuman eyes and a profusion of short tentacles in place of a mouth. The sketch is labeled K'thuy'lhu, obviously Cthulhu.

_"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."_

_"In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming."_

_"kya'rashloth thalgyr Tsang'kei R'lyeh tza'aloth K'thuy'lhu"_

_"To destroy the sleeping Cthulhu in sunken R'lyeh."_

_"Ry'aku Ky'ang shuylgyr K'thuy'lhu shogxi Kzei'tha'han chi'aaxu kangtkai"_

_"A terrible War between the Ancient Ones and the Cthulhu Spawn"_

There were more pencil sketches on the following pages. St. Etienne was a talented sketch artist and although these were obviously reproductions of images from the K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang manuscript, they were finely detailed and expertly shaded. I had to admire my friend's talent, the sketches had an almost photographic quality about them. One pictured a similar looking creature to the K'thuy'lhu sketch, though this sketch was of a skeletal structure, a rounded skull with two cavernous eye sockets. In place of the tentacles of K'thuy'lhu, this creature had a long, ribbed, tubelike proboscis. Another delicately shaded sketch portrayed a very bizarre, eyeless creature, a domed head above a powerful set of jaws ringed by vicious looking teeth, in the middle of which seemed to be a set of inner jaws complete with its own set of teeth, the upper torso appeared exo-skeletal from which protruded strange tubes. There was also a beautifully detailed sketch of the face of an asian man with jet black eyes, a representation of a K'than Shoggothi.

The following passage on the last page recalled to mind when as a young intern at London Hospital, I had been in the audience when Dr. Treves had first presented the profoundly malformed Joseph Merrick to his colleagues.

_I suspect the severe malformation and deformities of the body afflicting the unfortunate Joseph Merrick (more commonly known as "The Elephant Man") were the result of the Shoggothi's earlier experiments in attempting to resurrect R'yloth K'than Shuggarath using Merrick's pregnant mother as a "Vessel", without the proper rituals detailed in the "K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang". Would that I could have examined the poor fellow myself before his untimely demise."_

I found a scrawled notation at the bottom of the last page which mentioned the House of the Black Lotus, (which I assumed was an opium den) and a name: Liu T'sing. I had what I needed. I quote the last passage of this document, which I found quite chilling, especially in the context of my old friend's staunch atheism.

_"Would but that I had faith that the cruciform icon depicting the slain Nazarene would prove an effective protection against the profane desecration of one's will, mind and body, nor provide an impenetrable barrier against the debased malignancy of this star spawned monstrosity. Not so, as in the Gothic tales of Stoker and Le Fanu, wherein Christian faith and Holy iconography can stand against the forces of Darkness and Evil, the Gods of humanity can provide no succour, no defence against R'yloth K'than Shuggarath or indeed any of the Elder Gods from the void detailed in that accursed tome The Necronomicon"_.

I pondered on what would be the best course of action, should I take the notes to Paxton? Obviously that would be the most prudent step, but what they contained was so fantastical I doubted he would take any of it seriously, the notes read as nothing more than an elaborate Scientific Fiction fantasy tale, he would think me mad. I resolved to investigate the House of the Black Lotus myself for any sign of St. Etienne, and any evidence that these deranged cultists were responsible for the murders of my wife, my unborn child and my brother, or the Whitechapel abductions. Once I had such evidence as may be found I would present it to Inspector Paxton. Heeding Paxton's warning, I decided that a disguise would be a wise measure to take. I sought out the assistance of a former patient of mine, a theatrical performer, and he disguised my appearance by shaving my head bald, adding a large handlebar moustache and prodigious mutton chop whiskers. I didn't recognise myself in the mirror, the baldness coupled with the facial hair added ten years to my normally youthful appearance. 

Suitably disguised, I traveled to the Chinese district and made enquiries as to the location of Liu T'sing's establishment. The reaction elicited from the local inhabitants and merchants when I mentioned the opium den surprised me, they would fix me with a dark look, make a sign as if to ward off evil and scurry away muttering. I saw a tall Nordic sailor walk out of a restaraunt and upon enquiring if he knew the whereabouts of the opium den, the jovial mariner gave me precise directions on how to reach the House of the Black Lotus. It was late afternoon when I made my way through what I discovered to be a very ancient district of London, The Black Mews. Neglected, befouled, mouldering and feculent, an ancient sector of our modern city that had fallen into squalid decrepitude and degeneracy.

The begrimed cobbled streets and drainage channels appeared to date back to Roman times, whilst the houses and establishments were of Tudor design. The architecture though recognisable, had a slightly strange appearance and I realised as I made my way that the geometries involved were slightly off kilter, the whole place had a distinctly unnappealing cast to it. I passed by what I thought to be a tavern, the sign above this establishment was written in a foreign language, possibly of Slavic origin. No sounds of laughter or drunken revelry issued forth from this establishment, only very strange music and a repellent, monotone singing that was almost chanting, in a strange language I didn't recognise. I can't explain why, but the strange music left me with the distinct impression of great antiquity.

The denizens of this borough were quite disturbing in aspect, ill featured and misshapen. I observed that even though the Mews was geographically located within the Chinese district, they didn't appear to be Chinese at all, it seemed that the venerable citizens of Chinatown shunned this diseased place. Many of the local residents were descendants of some debased form of hybrid race, almost pre-human. All the races of men seemed represented in the strange features of the sullen, morose faces I saw, but these features were wildly disfigured, such as eyes being set too far apart, mouths either too large or too small, jagged teeth that protruded from closed mouths, noses and ears that were small and atrophied, skulls that seemed too large for the thin necks to support. Obviously there had been many generations of inbreeding amongst the debased inhabitants of The Black Mews. It was then I noticed something common to a certain type of resident of this degenerate sector, something at once familiar and at the same time like nothing I had ever seen. These ill favoured men and women had broad, flat-featured faces, tiny atrophied ears, with bulging eyes and thick rubbery lips, and I realised as I observed them that it was a Piscine quality in these faces that I had recognised, their features suggested some unspeakable, antediluvian amphibian hybrid. The quiet in this queer borough was unnerving, no children were playing and laughing in the streets, the eyes of the malformed inhabitants watched me suspiciously as I passed. Blowzy, sullen, misproportioned women sat in the doorways of houses built many centuries past, cradling their silent, misbegotten, toad faced infants, whilst cadaverous, emaciated men of ill countenance squatted nearby smoking cigarettes and passing liquor bottles back and forth. A few fly-blown, mangy dogs of no breed I was familiar with roamed the streets digging through piles of garbage and fighting over the rotting remnants they uncovered.

A black robed figure holding a long staff watched me pass by from within a shadowed doorway, where it stood vigil like some mysterious sentry. Underneath the large black hat it wore was one of those strange birdlike masks with long beaks that physicians wore in the time of the Black Plague when "treating" their patients. The long beak of these masks were filled with aromatic herbs to counteract the foetor of the plague victims and also I supposed the miasma from the open sewer that London was in those dark times. An icy cold feeling suffused through my body as an image of the victims of the horrific pestilence formed unbidden in my mind. I fancied I could see their rotting, diseased visages as they stirred and writhed in the foul corruption of the charnel house plague pits that undoubtedly lay beneath the ancient district and I shivered involuntarily as I continued my journey, fortifying my resolve as I concentrated forcefully on the task ahead. 

It was with a palpable sense of relief that I finally reached the street in which the House of the Black Lotus was situated. I rapped loudly on the door, realising with a shudder of distaste that I would have to make my way back through this loathsome quarter at night and was glad I had brought my revolver for protection. The door opened and I was ushered through by an ancient, stooped Chinese fellow, Liu T'sing, the elderly proprietor of the opium den. The acrid smell of burning opium stung my nostrils as I followed the hobbling elderly Oriental chap through a maze of narrow corridors. I was sure the old fellow was blind as he wore blacked out spectacles, such as those worn by people who had lost their eyes in traumatic accident, but he seemed to have no trouble navigating the maze of corridors inside his establishment. He showed me to a small room in which lay a small settee and table containing pipe and brazier, along with a small jug of water and a glass. I hung up my coat and hat and made myself comfortable as Liu T'sing returned with a ball of opium. I paid him the requisite fee, assured him I desired no assistance only privacy and the elderly Chinese man left. I prepared a pipe, reclined and ignited the opium in case I was being watched, although I avoided drawing the smoke into my lungs, I couldn't afford to be intoxicated whilst investigating. 

Some twenty minutes later there was a commotion in the corridor outside, it sounded like many men bearing a heavy burden. I fancied I could hear muffled yells, a feminine voice. As they passed I opened the door the merest crack and peered out to see a party of oriental chaps bearing a large, trussed burden disappear around a corner. I checked but the corridor was empty, I slipped out of my room and followed at a discreet distance, if challenged I would say I was looking for the privy. They entered what appeared to be a storage room. I listened at the door but the room beyond was silent, drawing a deep breath I opened the door, but the storage room was quite empty. The door I had entered was the only exit from the room, it appeared they had vanished into thin air.

I discovered one of the wall panels sounded hollow when I rapped on it and it slid open to reveal a cramped wooden stairway. I followed this down and made my way through a corridor which opened onto a small room, at the far end of which were two open heavy wooden doors, the entrance of a chamber, an ancient Roman catacomb paneled in wood, with a long raised wooden dais scattered with silk cushions. Many silk hangings decorated the walls, bearing strange symbols some of which I recognised from St. Etienne's notes, interspersed with Chinese characters. A large stone altar carved with the same symbols and glyphs dominated the centre of what I realised was a temple. A metre beyond the stone altar the rest of the temple was screened off by more of the silk hangings, whatever lay beyond was hidden from sight.

A thick, noxious miasma was about the chamber, a hint of mold, a touch of putrefaction, a wet earth smell mixed with rotting vegetable matter. Just inside the entrance to the wooden "temple" were stacked a large number of barrels, and it was here that I concealed myself to observe the hideous events which were to follow.

A few minutes later a barred wooden door enclosing a small anteroom inside the chamber opened and twelve silk-robed Chinese men entered the temple (the men's appearance seemed very strange and I realised as I observed them that their eyes were a uniform deep black, no white could be seen), these were the K'than Shoggothi. They led their unfortunate abductee into the large chamber. The woman, now clad only in a silk robe, seemed meek and unresisting, possibly she had been dosed with opium or laudanum. She was left standing in front of the elaborately decorated silk hangings that screened off half the chamber. 

Eleven of the Shoggothi filed onto the raised dais containing what appeared to be musical instruments, though quite unlike any earthly musical instruments I was familiar with, the strange shapes and contours of these instruments were disturbing to the eye and as the Shoggothi orchestra tuned their arcane musical devices, the air was filled by bizarre and unearthly notes which seemd to intertwine sinuosly and aggressively as they faded out. From my concealed vantage point I saw the twelfth Shoggothi, the "priest" stood before the stone altar, a document before him, (this I surmised was St. Etienne's faithful copy of the original K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang manuscript). The "priest" began to intone a ritual from the ancient manuscript as the Shoggothi orchestra began to play a repetitive, rythmical, one note refrain. He chanted loudly: _"R'yloth kya'rashloth. R'yloth Kantaku. R'yloth Kuy'aku. R'yloth kansala K'yang"_. The woman's eyes were closed and her body seemed to sway in time with the strange alien rythms. The priest opened the silk robe exposing her voluptuous naked body and painted alien symbols on it in black ink.

Once the "priest" had finished covering the woman's exposed flesh with the alien symbols, the Shoggothi musicians transformed the simple one note, rythmic refrain into complex multi tonal patterns and vocalisations. An inhuman chorus interweaving jagged, insane melodies with dissonant, alien harmonies, notes of a diabolic scale never intended for the ears of humanity. A hideous symphony of unearthly instruments, over which the choir of the damned sang a dirge-like alien hymn: 

_"Ay'oshog yarzath T'kanth nyarloth Z'haal shuylgyr, thog kay'an Bth'yaal Kuthul abshoggi, kansala sikthayok R'yuthan K'yang kya'rashloth. R'yloth N'yarl abshoggi, R'yloth Kantaku shuylgyr._ " 

The alien music formed an almost physical presence in the chamber, summoned from the eternal black void by this unholy orchestra, it threatened to overwhelm my senses with madness, it's infernal vibrations that tore at my soul, that sought to imprison my sanity and reason in the discordant frequencies of it's noisome obscenity.

At that moment something emerged from behind the elaborately decorated silk hangings, a semi-rigid, translucent appendage as thick as a man's leg, another emerged, and another seemingly groping blindly about until they encountered the partially disrobed woman. The appendages wrapped sinuously about the woman, almost caressing the body, leaving glistening slime trails on the pale flesh painted with the strange symbols. The woman seemed to come out of her hypnotic state and began screaming as the appendages dragged her toward whatever was concealed behind the silk screens. The screams continued as she disappeared from view and there came a hideous wet squelching, sucking sound, the screams becoming muffled and indistinct. I had my revolver, should I go to the poor womans aid? My mind had become clouded and I was left in a state of confusion by the abhorrent alien "music". I blocked my ears with my hands and mentally recited multiplication tables until the confusion eased somewhat. Undoubtedly, I reasoned, the Shoggothi would stop me before I could render any assistance, and as I had only five rounds, I decided to seek out Paxton and Barnsley and return with reinforcements. I slipped out of my concealed vantage point and returned along the corridor to the hidden stairway. St. Etienne had not been suffering paranoid delusions about the profane cult and it's grotesque rituals at least. Some of what he spoke of was true and I thought it likely that he was imprisoned somewhere in this den of horror.


	4. R'yloth K'than Shuggarath Lives!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finch, Paxton and Barnsley confront an abomination from the void.

I managed to escape the House of the Black Lotus unseen and set off back through The Black Mews. The sun had set and the ancient borough was dark and silent. There was no street lighting evident but I had no trouble making my way as the light of the full moon lit my path sufficiently. There was no one abroad on the ancient cobbled streets, the houses and establishments were dark and shuttered, but I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched. I drew my revolver, deriving some small measure of comfort from the feel of the weapon in my hand. At some point I must have taken a wrong turn, I emerged in a sector of The Black Mews wherein the ancient buildings had a wholly different appearance to those I had noted earlier, this area had a distinctly medieval aspect to it. Upon exiting a dank alleyway I chanced upon an open Common, the Common was ringed on three sides by trees which were stunted and deformed, the grass was long and withered and in the moonlight appeared to be a deep blood red. There was a stone circle in the center of the blasted heath surrounding a tall intricately carved monolith, the standing stones bore a superficial resemblance to Stonehenge, but the arrangements were far more complex, and the geometries involved subtly alien. The monoliths were carved with patterns and strange heiroglyphs and there was an overwhelming sense of great antiquity about the megalith, predating even the Druids.

The moon disappeared behind the clouds and it was then I noticed a dim light inside the stone circle, surrounded by shadowy figures performing what I took to be a pagan ritual. I quickly concealed myself in a narrow stone stairway that led down to a basement door, as two of the bizarre, black hatted, black robed, long beaked bird masked figures emerged from between the monoliths, lanterns in one hand, staffs in the other, flanking a tall figure dressed in black robes and elaborately embroidered vestments. A line of the degenerate Mews inhabitants filed out behind the three figures and the procession entered the alleyway I had just traversed. I slipped out of my concealment and followed at a discreet distance and in a few minutes I found myself back in the main thoroughfare. The strange procession entered the tavern, the establishment from which had issued the disturbing music and repellent chanting I had heard on my earlier journey through the Mews. The place was dimly lit and someone inside was orating loudly in the strange language, it sounded like the intoning of a ritual or prayer, the establishment was obviously no tavern but some kind of Stygian tabernacle. I made haste back to the well lit streets of a more familiar part of the city. As I neared the streets of the Chinese district proper, I again had an intense feeling of being observed, I turned back and saw two of the black clad, long beaked bird masked figures bearing staffs, standing in the cobbled street behind me, I hurried my step but they made no attempt to follow. Were these the bizarre "constables" that patrolled the cobbled Roman streets of the degenerate Mews? I pondered on the enigma of this bedeviled place as I made my way, ancient pagan cults, degenerate, debased inhabitants, how could this decrepit borough exist unsuspected in modern day 19th century London? I had certainly been unaware of it's existence as were most Londoners I was sure, but I assumed someone in a position of authority must surely know of this accursed place.

At length I found myself back in the well lit, crowded thoroughfares of London and within ten minutes I chanced upon a patrolling constable. I waylaid the man and entreated him to return to Scotland Yard with all haste to fetch Paxton and Barnsley and as many constables as could be mustered. The policeman at first thought I was some half-crazed drunkard and was obviously humouring me, and given my appearance I thought not without justification. I was brandishing a revolver, my face was begrimed, my clothing was dirty and disordered, the false whiskers had come unglued and were hanging askew, the results of my experiences in the Black Mews and the House of the Black Lotus. I finally managed to convince the skeptical policeman that I wasn't a crazed madman, and that this was indeed a matter of life and death. He departed to fetch the detectives and reinforcements, bearing a short note to deliver to Paxton telling of what I had witnessed, imploring him to make all haste if we were to save the latest victim, and to ensure that they were well armed as our foes probably had the advantage over us. I retreated to a nearby tavern, The Horse and Hound, to await their arrival and to fortify myself.

After downing two stiff measures of whisky I returned to the street and after about fifteen minutes Paxton, Barnsley and five constables arrived. They had heeded my warning, both men were armed with revolvers and Barnsley had also brought a double barreled shotgun. I thought that Paxton would remonstrate me for taking matters into my own hands rather than taking what I had to him, but Paxton was so happy he finally had a concrete lead in his case that he didn't even mention it, "I thought I may have to consult that Holmes fellow that Lestrade consults on a regular basis. Damned if I wanted to though, he solves most of Lestrade's difficult cases for him, the man's gotten lazy, he hardly does any real detective work anymore." Paxton explained.

I gave the detectives a brief account of what I had witnessed at the House of the Black Lotus and we made our way back to the opium den through The Black Mews with all possible haste, yet I feared we may be too late to save the latest victim of these inhuman monsters in human guise. We banged on the door of the House of the Black Lotus and Liu T'sing admitted us. Paxton left constables McCallany and Burgess to clear the establishment and with the assistance of Liu T'sing they began the task of rousing the clientele from their opium induced stupor and evacuating them. Constables Lynch, Haise and DeLarge accompanied us as we made our way, weapons in hand, through the corridors to the storeroom that housed the secret stairway to the temple. We arrived at the underground lair to find it apparently deserted. Most of the lamps had been extinguished, only a few Chinese lanterns gave a dim illumination.

The heavy wooden door to the antechamber was open and inside eleven of the K'than were in some form of hypnotic, meditative state. The atmosphere was thick with a cloying, sickly sweet incense, and dimly illuminated by lanterns. The K'than were arranged in a circle around a jade/obsidian statue, twelve feet in height, that dominated the centre of the antechamber. They were sat crossed legged on silk cushions, their hands folded in their laps, eyes closed. We became aware of a continuous muted humming, far too deep to be made by human vocal chords emitting from the eleven K'than, the humming rose and fell in pitch in precisely timed cycles as we stood listening. We raised our weapons but the K'than did not appear to register our presence, they were deep in a hypnotic trance. The aspect of the statue they surrounded was disturbing to the eye, but it also had a dark beauty to it. It depicted two mighty creatures locked in a death struggle. A bipedal creature carved in jade, roughly humanoid in shape though scaly and grotesque, with a pulpy, rounded octopoid head, a profusion of short tentacles in place of a mouth, and I realised this was a three dimensional representation of the complete creature from the K'thuy'lhu head sketch in St. Etienne's notes. The scaled body was stood upon muscular legs with reptilian, three toed, splayed feet. A cyindrical, millipede like beast, sculpted in black obsidian was wrapped around one muscular leg, up around the green scaled torso and it's blunt rounded head was reared up like a cobra ready to strike at the jade creature's head. The black beast I recognised as a Shoggoth from St. Etienne's description. The K'thuy'lhu/Cthulhu creature had the Shoggoth in the grip of it's powerful four fingered hand, just below it's enemy's head, holding back the fatal strike. There was nothing about the statue to indicate the true scale of these unearthly combatants, but the overwhelming impression was of two mighty behemoths, a clash of titans. The detail of it was minutely intricate, the work of a master craftsman. Even though they had obviously been carved from separate stones, the two creatures were intertwined seamlessly, the skill of the artistry suggested that it had been carved from but a single stone.

Beyond this statue was another barred door, maybe this was where St. Etienne was being held. Paxton and Barnsley kept the K'than covered as I made to investigate, yet they still didn't seem at all aware of our presence. I opened the door and was hit by an overwhelming stench, this though was an all too human foetor, corruption, unwashed bodies, stale sweat, faeces and urine. This room was in total darkness so I fetched one of the lanterns, and it was a shocking sight that met my eyes. The small room was filled with grotesquely deformed men and women. They had severely malformed heads, bodies and limbs, which were covered in suppurating tumorous growths, they appeared to be afflicted by the same disease as Joseph Merrick, the Elephant Man. I retreated from the room and Inspector Paxton favoured me with an enquiring glance, I handed him the lantern and took his place covering the unmoving K'than with my revolver. Paxton ventured inside the room and emerged white faced and grim countenanced, the nauseating sight had conveyed the true horror of the situation far more effectively than my words could have done. We left the antechamber and quietly closed and barred the heavy door, the K'than had not moved at all. Except for the K'than priest the Shoggothi were securely contained.

I pointed to the screened off section of the temple, "That's where the woman was taken" I whispered and we pushed through the screens to confront what lay beyond. The nauseating sight we beheld nearly robbed me of my sanity right then and there. To describe the utter alien monstrosity of the thing, obviously no product of terrestrial evolution, to someone who hadn't seen it is a difficult task, mere words could never convey the corpulent malignancy of this abomination from the stars.  
A chorus of muttered oaths sounded from my fellows as they beheld this horrific scene, constable Lynch made the sign of the cross and grasped a crucifix hanging about his neck.

The central body was reminiscent of a common slug, about twenty feet in length and six feet in diameter, tapering to about two feet in diameter at the tail which divided into two long flexible spines (which called to mind the tail of a centipede) from which sprouted short feathery growths. It had a pattern of mottled dark green patches on it's back, which was covered in short, thorny spines ranging from between eight inches in length to eighteen inches. From the top of the head protruded three sensory appendages in a triangular arrangement, one in front two behind, very similar in appearance to the eyestalks of a common garden snail or slug. From the snout dangled whiskery tendrils. It had the same semi-translucent appearance as St. Etienne's diseased torso, a gelatinous quality combined with a slug-like texture.

It rested in a circular, beslimed nest formed from some noxious secretion. Half a dozen of the semi-rigid, thorny spines on its back, which could apparently be extended and retracted from the mass were attached to six bulging organic shapes arranged about the walls which I realised with horror were it's victims which had been coccooned around the rancid, pestiferous nest. Where the semi-rigid appendages entered the cocoons, they splayed out into multiple thin black strands and my blood went to ice when I saw these strands were inserted into every one of the victim's bodily orifices. Their skin had become pale grey and translucent and I saw that these strands were inserted into all the bodily organs. The spines pulsed with unearthly green light flashes, the pulses "travelling" from victim to beast. They were being broken down at a cellular level and "transmitted" to the beast by the green pulses, which were I thought, some form of electrical energy. It didn't seem as if the beast was digesting them more like absorbing them as "information" - the All Knowing Beast? The facial features of the victims appeared strangely melted. As I scrutinised one of the victims whose pigment hadn't yet been leached, obviously a later victim than the barely human translucent things, the dead eyes opened. My heart skipped a beat, he was still alive. The poor devil tried to scream but couldn't because his mouth was full of the loathsome tendrils. He struggled and strained but the cocoon was made of strong stuff. I vomited copiously and judging from the sound behind me so did some of my companions.

I realised this was the hideous "Communion" St. Etienne had spoken of. The most recent victim had been cocooned but the creature had not as yet begun the process, she appeared to be unconscious, but it wasn't too late to save her. To be "absorbed" alive by this foul creature, coccooned in it's rancid nest whilst it slowly breaks you down and consumes the very essence of your being, the poor devils must have been quite insane before they finally perished.

The twelfth K'than, the "priest" was standing in front of this unholy creature. The beast's head was raised up level with the K'than's head, which was enveloped by the thin, whiskery tendrils which extended from the snout of the thing. These tendrils also pulsed with the sickly green light, the light pulses "traveled" along the the tendrils giving the impression of something being transmitted from the beast to the K'than. I turned to my companions, they were very pale, almost grey in pallor, as I imagined I must be too. We looked at each other in bewilderment, this was a situation that we couldn't have imagined in our worst nightmares. Even the hardened detectives and policemen were at a loss as to how to proceed, their training could never have prepared them for this. We met each others gaze in silence, each of us looking for an answer in the eyes of our companions. The damned wretch struggled to free himself, his eyes pleading with us for help.

Unable to bear the horror of the victims futile efforts to escape, or his muffled screams any longer Paxton aimed his revolver at this poor devil and immediately the man stopped his panicked struggling and blinked his eyes twice, giving his consent. "May God have mercy on all our souls" and with that he fired two rounds into the fellows heart, with precise accuracy, the poor devil was dead instantly. This had an immediate effect, the whiskery tendrils enveloping the K'than's head abruptly grew dark and withdrew back into the body, leaving only short "whiskers" dangling from the snout, the beast had registered our presence, though it was unable to move as it was anchored to its victims. The thin strands in the victims orifices began to withdraw, and one by one the appendages were slowly withdrawn back into its body, leaving only the short thorny spines protruding. The K'than revived abruptly as it also became aware of our presence.

The K'than priest snarled and uttered an oath as it turned and leaped toward me, intent on doing me harm. It was a shock to see those alien eyes that gleamed with an unearthly light, in close proximity, and an icy shiver ran down my spine. I shot the repellent creature in the chest at point blank range and it staggered backwards a few steps before recovering, the wound which would have been instantly fatal for any mortal man, spurted a thick, black viscous ichor instead of blood. The loathsome thing again sprang at me whereupon Paxton shot it several times in the back. Unbelievably it rose again, the foul ichor dripping from it's wounds as it turned and sprang towards Paxton with a demented shriek of rage. Paxton shot the creature repeatedly and Barnsley emptied both barrels of his shotgun into it's torso. The K'than was jolted backwards but it did not go down, Barnsley hurriedly reloaded. Paxton aimed his revolver at the thing's head and fired, his last round, the shot penetrated it's left eye which exploded in a spray of black gore. The foul thing let out a deep roar of rage and again attacked, St. Etienne had been correct when he stated the Shoggoth's were nearly indestructible, if bullets couldn't stop it what would? Barnsley aimed his shotgun at its head and fired both barrels at point blank range, the K'thans head disintegrated in a spray of grue and black ichor and it slumped to the ground, the diabolical "priest" was finally dead.

A loud pounding came from the antechamber, the K'than had revived from their hypnotic state and were trying to smash through the heavy wooden door.

The beast had retracted all the thorny appendages and rose up as if to challenge us. On the underside of it's central mass I perceived a large sphincter which opened to reveal a cycloid orifice surrounded by loathsome tendrils that writhed continuously, a high pitched mewling screech of rage issued from the obscene orifice. I emptied my revolver into the hideous creature, four shots, which had no effect whatsoever on the unearthly monstrosity, the bullets were harmlessly absorbed by the gelatinous mass. The unarmed constables wielded their billy clubs, but there was nothing they could do against this monstrosity and Paxton waved them back. Barnsley fired both barrels of his shotgun into the thing, with no apparent effect. He reloaded and aimed at it trying to hit one of its sensory appendages and on his second shot he hit his mark, the top of the sensory organ exploded with a spray of thick slime and the damaged appendage retracted into the head as did the unharmed ones. The abomination thrashed about wildly as a hideous mewling scream of pain issued from its oral orifice. Barnsley dropped the shotgun, he must have exhausted his supply of shells. Paxton taking advantage of the things distraction, ran past it into the nest and ripped the unmolested victim from her cocoon, which obviously hadn't yet hardened to the same consistency as the other cocoons. Barnsley drew his pistol and shot repeatedly at the abomination hoping to keep it distracted. Paxton threw the slime covered body over his shoulder and ran back past the beast, as Barnsley's revolver clicked on empty cylinders. Paxton's act of bravery was the most selfless thing I have ever witnessed another human being perform, the man is a true hero in every sense of the word, I couldn't have summoned up the courage to risk my life the way he did and I was no coward. He took her to the chamber entrance and laid her down gently. After reloading, Paxton came back and fired two more shots at the creature, but the bullets had little effect. The enraged creature again rose up to attack, the tendrils surrounding the cycloid orifice became semi-rigid and extended from the mass toward us. Paxton yelled for everyone to retreat and we turned and ran for the temple entrance.

I heard a loud scream, the slimy, probing tendrils had wrapped themselves around the unfortunate constable Lynch who was just behind me and were dragging him inexorably toward the hideous abomination's orifice. At the same time Paxton was seized by a grasping tendril around his leg, which hastily released it's grip, possibly due to the heat of the muzzle flash as Paxton emptied his revolver into the vile appendage at point blank range. Barnsley and I seized Lynch by the arms, we struggled in vain to release the man from the beasts deadly embrace but more pseudopods were groping toward us and we had to release our grip, lest the monstrosity capture us as well. "We must retreat Barnsley, there's nothing more we can do for this poor devil" I shouted at the sergeant. Paxton had reached the temple entrance, followed closely by Haise and DeLarge, and he entreated Barnsley and I to hasten our escape. We ran for the entrance, the muffled screams of the doomed Lynch rang in our ears as he was slowly consumed by the diabolical creature's hideous oral orifice.

I was only ten metres from the entrance of the chamber that housed the monstrosity, when I felt something wrap around my legs, one of the feeding tendrils had me. I was pulled off my feet and dragged feet first towards that obscene orifice. Barnsley took hold of me and tried to pull me back, in vain, the creature's strength was herculean. More tendrils were approaching Barnsley, "Save yourself man, I'm done for, there's no need for us both to become a repast for this thing" I shouted at the sergeant and reluctantly he let go and raced for the temple entrance. The creature dragged me slowly towards it's upright form, but the creature did not feed me into it's cycloid orifice as it had the ill fated constable Lynch, instead the tendrils relented their grip slightly and placed me upright on my feet in front of R'yloth K'than Shuggarath, the All Knowing Beast. The short whiskery tendrils around the snout extended and enveloped my head, a feeling of intense panic overcame me as the slimy sensory appendages engulfed my face, I struggled to escape, but it was in vain, the grasping tendrils held me in an iron grip. The panic subsided slightly as I realised I was able to breathe normally. I felt a strange rythmical pulsing sensation, and the sickly green light exploded in my head and faded, in time with the rythmic pulsing. I perceived a "voice" inside my mind, at first faint and indistinct, slowly becoming louder, and I realised with a shock that made my blood run cold that the "voice" was speaking my name. It had a hissing, sibilant quality and although distorted, it was unmistakably the voice of my old friend. St. Etienne's "paranoid delusion" had been no delusion at all, he had undergone the foul metamorphosis he had spoken of, how could I have known? A small vestige of my old friend's consciousness still survived within the monstrosity and was communicating with me, St. Etienne's strong will was resisting the alien mind of the parasitical beast "God" from the void. "Fffinssshh" the voice "spoke" and at the same time I beheld images that shook my already tenuous grip on sanity.

I perceived the passage of untold aeons, the elemental aether, an inky black void, the vast dark emptiness between galaxies and distant constellations never observed by the telescopes of earthly astronomers. Beneath a lurid green sky, a colour no human eye had ever beheld, I "saw" a vast ancient stone city, deserted and derelict millenia before primitive life arose on Earth, the waves of a blood red sea lapped at it's befouled shores. The architecture of this decrepit stone city followed no earthly laws of geometry, the impossible, insane angles of the alien geometric system employed in the construction of the sky-flung monoliths was disturbing to the eye. Strange stygian temples and towering statues of grotesque creatures, the products of an infernal evolutionary process, lined the irregular avenues and plazas. Representations of strange unearthly "Gods", unspeakable beings, their hideous forms unimaginable in even the most fevered nightmare delirium. The profane names of these abominations echoed in my mind as I beheld their repulsive, inhuman visages: Cthulhu, Yog Sothoth, Shub Niggurath, Dagon, Tsathoggua. The "voice" of St. Etienne echoed in my head, _"Fffinssh you musst dessstroy usss, ussss iss pppreparing to sssspawn, tthere wwill be thoussssands of uss, and usss wwill devourrr all lifesss and leavess thisss wworld a lifelesss desertss_ ".

Many scourged alien worlds did I "behold" all lifeless and barren, ravaged by R'yloth K'than Shuggarath and its foul spawn, only the mouldering, beslimed ruins of great cyclopean cities remained, infested by thousands of the beast's loathsome nests and surrounded by blasted plains of ash, slag and clinker. _"Ffire isss thhe only wweaponss thatss can hharm ussss"_. I perceived an ancient Chinese village which I "knew" was Zhengyu. Inside a temple was a large nest holding the earlier incarnation of R'yloth K'than Shuggarath, the spines on the its back were extended out in all directions, many victims had been cocooned into the walls and ceiling of the nest and were undergoing the hideous "Communion". The cocooned remains of former victims were withered, mummified husks, totally consumed in the unspeakable, parasitical/symbiotic union, only dried leathery skin and bones remained. I "saw" the Western Zhou Emperor Wu's army attack Zhengyu, slaughtering the Shoggothi and putting their diseased God to the torch over two thousand years ago. I "saw" a vast field of crucified Shoggothi on the Plains of Leng which the Chinese soldiers set afire. A hideous moaning and wailing arose from the burning creatures. As the crosses burned some of the Shoggothi fell to the ground and these, still burning fiercely, rose and attacked the emperor's troops. Laughing soldiers shot the burning Shoggothi full of arrows.

This was the "Spiritual Enlightenment" that my old friend had pursued so relentlessly since our university days. In it lay no comfort or reward as promised by the Christian religions, only terror and madness. It revealed the true nature of the universe and our place in it. The human race are less than vermin to the Elder Gods. _"Go nowww Finssh, briinng fire beffore usss sspawnsss"_

With that the whisker-like sensory tendrils withdrew from my head, the feeding tendrils released their grip and I was free, they pushed me insistently toward the chamber entrance. The room was suddenly filled with an icy, alien presence, and I knew my old friend was finally gone. I bolted for the doors as the grasping tendrils again tried to capture me, I knew if they succeeded I would undoubtedly end up in the belly of the beast. Paxton and Barnsley had barred the doors to the chamber, and I pounded on them as I yelled for release, "Paxton, unbar the doors, it's Finch, for God's sake unbar the doors man", with that the bar was removed and I fell through. Paxton and Barnsley replaced the wooden bar across the doors of the large chamber. "Barnsley fetch oil and torches, we must burn this diseased place to the ground, fire is the creature's only vulnerability". Barnsley looked to Inspector Paxton who nodded, "With all haste sergeant, round up as many reinforcements as you can muster. Haise, DeLarge, fetch an ambulance for this poor soul". With that Barnsley departed taking Haise and DeLarge with him. I knelt down beside the beslimed woman and felt her pulse, it was regular, she was breathing shallowly, she was unconscious but hadn't suffered any injury, the creature had not begun the profane "Communion". She had suffered through a terrifying, traumatic experience, but she hadn't been physically harmed. The creature began attacking the barred doors, pieces of timber splintered, were ripped free and tossed aside. The beast would tear the doors apart in a matter of minutes. We retreated back through the narrow corridor, carrying the unconscious woman. The beast itself was too large to navigate the cramped corridor although it's questing pseudopods continued to follow us, I was unsure how far the appendages could reach. Paxton found a pile of old newspapers beneath the concealed stairway, and he hastily made a fire on the floor of the corridor with a tinderbox he removed from a jacket pocket. The creature's appendages retreated back toward the chamber when they encountered the fire. For the moment we were safe. We could hear the beast's frenzied thrashing as it sought to escape the chamber, destroying the dais, the altar and other fittings in it's temple.

Presently Barnsley and a contingent of constables arrived with barrels of oil and flaming torches. Constables DeLarge and Haise picked up the unconscious woman and carried her up the cramped stairway to a waiting ambulance. We entered the chamber through the wrecked doors, using the torches to fight back the beast, and the oil was splashed all around the wood paneled temple. One of the constables was caught unawares as he was performing his task and he was seized and dragged toward the beasts quivering orifice, I sprang forward and thrust a burning torch onto the grasping pseudopod, which quickly released it's grip and the young policeman was free. We saw that the creature had increased greatly in size in the forty minutes it had taken Barnsley to return with the oil and torches, the thing was going to spawn and I understood that if this occurred, we would have a devil of a time escaping alive let alone finding them all and ensuring their destruction. The spawn were nearly as deadly as the full grown creature upon birth, but they wouldn't be contained by the chamber as their fully grown progenitor was. The loud pounding on the barred anteroom door continued, as the K'than tried to escape, their strength was massive, the heavy wooden door was beginning to splinter and at this rate they would soon smash through the door and be free.

The beast reared and attacked but was driven back by our flaming torches, venting its rage and frustration with a squealing, hissing screech. The task was complete and Paxton, with an unprintable oath, hurled a burning torch at the abomination. We all threw our torches into the oil drenched temple and retreated to the entrance. The chamber was well ablaze and the beast caught fire with a hideous sizzling sound. The creature writhed and contorted in it's death agonies as it tried unsuccesfully to escape the flames and every manjack of us there clutched our heads in pain as unearthly, squealing, shrieking screams exploded inside our heads. The hideous mewling screams slowly faded and I felt blood drip from my nose onto my shirt. Every one of us had nosebleeds from the pressure of the beast's dying screams inside our heads. An inhuman, eerie wailing sounded from the imprisoned K'than Shoggothi as they were slowly cremated with their verminous God. With an almighty crash the splintered door of the burning antechamber exploded outwards in a shower of sparks and flaming wooden shards, one of the Shoggothi emerged, burning fiercely, and it slowly staggered toward the entrance. The flaming K'than fell to the ground, and unbelievably the creature rose and again staggered toward us, before falling again and finally succumbing to the flames. The ceiling was now ablaze, the fire was starting to spread through the corridor and the concealed wooden stairway had caught alight, the whole establishment would soon be ablaze. Paxton took hold of my arm, "Come man, we must evacuate or we will share the beast's demise". With one last glance at the burning monstrosity I had once called friend, I followed Paxton and his men through the maze of corridors and out onto the street in front of the House of the Black Lotus, and we watched the ruins burn.

Paxton and I explored the smoking ruins once the blaze had burnt itself out. The creature was shrivelled and blackened, obviously dead, the remains of the beast's victims had been incinerated as had the twelve K'than. We poured more oil on the remains and again set it ablaze to obliterate it completely and irrevocably. The foul stench of the burned monstrosity was overwhelming, and one of Paxton's men was vomiting in the corner. The night's work was done, the abomination would take no more victims. Yet I knew there was still one last task to perform before it was finally over.


	5. The Aftermath

The street outside the ruins of the house of the Black Lotus was filled with the customers evacuated from the opium den. Paxton was questioning Burgess and McCallany about Liu T'sing's whereabouts, the old fellow was nowhere to be seen. As I made my way, The Black Mews seemed almost warm and inviting after the insane alien terror we had experienced at the House of The Black Lotus. I now felt I could happily walk alone through this district, unarmed, at midnight on All Hallows Eve without any fear whatsoever after battling and defeating the abominable R'yloth K'than Shuggarath, the profane things I had witnessed and the unspeakable cosmic terror I now possess the knowledge of.  
My final mission consumed my thoughts as I continued through London, the final piece of the monstrosity, which as Wyatt had informed me still lived, must be destroyed.

As I approached I beheld a large crowd in the street outside Wyatt's surgery. I identified myself as a colleague and friend of Dr. Wyatt to one of the constables, who was standing guard outside the premises, and he informed me that my colleague's surgery had been ransacked and Wyatt murdered. The constable observed that Dr. Wyatt had probably been murdered by addicts who had broken into the surgery seeking drugs. I had to see if the jar containing the cutting from St. Etienne's diseased torso was still there. At that moment I had an intense feeling of being observed and turned to behold none other than Liu T'sing standing at the back of the crowd, I recognised him immediately although he no longer appeared elderly. His back had straightened, his stooped gait was gone, and he now appeared strong and youthful. As I watched, Liu T'sing removed his dark glasses to reveal totally black eyes and my blood turned to ice in my veins, Liu T'sing was an unsuspected thirteenth K'than Shoggothi. The creature favoured me with a cruel smile before turning and disappearing amongst the crowd. I tried to force my way through the crowd and give pursuit but suddenly everything went black and I knew no more.

I regained consciousness the next day to find myself in a hospital bed. Paxton and Barnsley were in attendance, and according to Paxton I had experienced a breakdown outside Wyatt's burgled surgery, screaming and raving that Liu T'sing must be stopped or the world would be doomed. On the hideous events at the House of the Black Lotus, Paxton informed me that the case was now closed. The official verdict was that a pagan Chinese cult had been abducting people and feeding them to a giant Asian python. These constrictor snakes, he explained, grew to great size and had been known to ingest alligators, and there had even been a report of one swallowing a peasant farmer whole. "Damn it man, you saw the beast you know it was no python." I replied, "You know the K'than were no natural Chinese men, they were creatures of no human provenance." Paxton allowed that this was indeed true, but he explained, if he had included these details in his official report his superiors would have thought him mad and he would have been committed to the Bedlam Asylum for Lunatics. 

"What about the matter of Liu T'sing? He has everything required to again resurrect the abomination." I enquired of Paxton. "I am unconvinced Finch that you actually saw Liu T'sing, and even if he didn't perish in the fire the old fellow's got to be over ninety years old, what threat could he possibly pose?" With that Paxton and Barnsley rose and after wishing me a speedy recovery they walked to the door of my room. Paxton paused on the threshold and turned back to me as he spoke, "The doctors believe you suffered a nervous turn related to your recent bereavement. But if you persist in trying to convince the authorities of what really transpired at the House of the Black Lotus doctor Finch, I'm afraid you will only succeed at becoming an inmate of the Bedlam asylum yourself."

In a few days I was discharged from London Hospital and returned home. The first night home I was unable to sleep, the events of the last month replayed continuously in my mind and I sought the oblivion of an alcoholic stupor.

The aftermath of these terrifying events has left me mentally ravaged, the memories, the sights I beheld, the knowledge of humanity's true place in a cold, uncaring universe along with the deaths of those closest to me, have frayed my sanity irreparably. The night terrors I am unable to endure, and I must dose myself regularly with morphine, opium or laudanum to prevent my sleep being riven by hideous nightmares of the vast interstellar void and the obscene monstrosities that inhabit it. I have become dependent on the derivatives of the poppy to obliterate the dark visions that threaten the last vestiges of remaining sanity. My wife and unborn child, my brother and my old friend are dead, my medical practice gone, I have nothing left but the knowledge of unendurable cosmic terror, that we are less than vermin to the Elder Gods. My supplies of the drugs are nearly gone, and now that I have chronicled the events that I was an unwilling participant in, I fear my only release will be in death.

I heeded Paxton's warning that it would be futile to try and warn the authorities of the true events that transpired at the House of the Black Lotus, and of the continuing threat to our earthly existence posed by Liu T'sing. Taking heed of Friederich Nietzsche's words of wisdom, "That which doesn't kill you can only make you stronger." I have cleansed my body of it's reliance on the opiates that helped me maintain a slender grasp on my eroded sanity, and I now have a definite sense of purpose. To track down Liu T'sing and destroy it, the K'than K'shaloth Ssaiyang, and prevent it's diseased "God" from ever being resurrected on earth again. I would seek revenge for the lives of my wife, my unborn child, my brother and my old friend. Liu T'sing deliberately taunted me by revealing "himself" at the end, it didn't have to, and if it hadn't I would have believed we had successfully defeated R'yloth K'than Shuggarath and its inhuman disciples. I have long pondered on the reason Liu T'sing revealed itself to me, but no satisfactory explanation ever presented itself. I have concluded that as Liu T'sing is not human, it is impossible to understand its alien reasoning process.

THE END?


	6. Story Notes.

STORY NOTES.

1\. The quote in chapter one attributed to St. Etienne is quoted from a letter HP Lovecraft wrote to fellow author Robert E. Howard.

2\. The description of the Shoggoths in chapter two is quoted from "At the Mountains of Madness."

3\. The issue of Lovecraft's racially intolerant views I addressed through the vulgar Mrs. Barnstable and her reference to "Ignorant heathen savages" which is rebuked by the racially tolerant Doctor Finch.

Originally I had planned a multi genre Lovecraft crossover story featuring: Victorian London, Sherlock Holmes, Jack the Ripper, Nikola Tesla, Doctor Who, the Elephant Man, Alien, The Thing, the Black Plague. Ultimately this idea was sensibly abandonded for a more traditional Lovecraftian tale (albeit one with a modern Sci-Fi/Horror sensibility), but I included some references to these elements as throwaway lines, for a bit of added "Victorian Colour" (I think these references work in context to the story).

THE SEQUELS.

I have ideas for two linked sequels to this story, neither of which are a direct continuation of the first story. 

London 1893.  
The first is a Steampunk Victorian Sci-Fi/Lovecraftian Horror set in The Black Mews, featuring Inspector Paxton and Sergeant Barnsley, who are investigating a strange case involving a derelict boat found drifting on the Thames near to the Lovecraftian degenerate Black Mews. There is evidence of foul play aboard this boat, and the crew are missing although there is a survivor. Paxton and Barnsley discover clues leading to the arcane cult of Black Mews dwellers and the megalithic stone structure on the Blasted Heath Finch observed in The Seduction of St. Etienne. They encounter Nikola Tesla and a team of physicists with steampunk apparatus, hired by Chinese crime lord Weng Chiang and his two "henchmen", two nine foot tall, heavily muscled, albinos. Weng Chiang is in reality the cruel dictator of the Tsan-Chan Empire in 5000 AD, stranded in the 19th century when he projected his mind into the body of an opium smuggler to escape the overthrow of his brutal regime, using the time travel method of the conehead race from The Shadow Out of Time. His body was destroyed in 5000 AD to prevent his return. Weng Chiang had discovered through his ill fated associate Antoine St. Etienne, that the megalithic stone monument on the Blasted Heath is a Time/Dimensional portal and he intends to utilise this portal to return to his time and avert the overthrow of his brutal regime. The Black Mews cult are intent on summoning their Lovecraftian God, an insubstantial creature that coalesces from a cloud of black smoke. Weng Chiang's "henchmen" also have an agenda relating to the megalithic portal, which due to all the conflicting attempts to control it, becomes locked on a nightmare dimension, unleashing hideous insectoid monstrosities which devour all in sight. Paxton, Barnsley, Tesla and the scientists escape to the underground chamber housing the portal's hideously "Gigeresque" power supply and must destroy it, thus returning the insectoid monstrosities back to their own hideous dimension.

SAMPLE SCENE: The Rift Into Hell Opens.

"It opens up a dimensional rift that can be focused on any given point in space and time." Langstrom explained to Paxton and Barnsley. Barnsley looked a bit all at sea, Paxton replied "And if I understand correctly, whatever is on the other side of that rift can then cross over freely into this dimension?".

Langstrom cleared his throat before replying "That is correct Inspector", "The question I suspect I am not going to like the answer to is, what then is on the other side of the rift?" enquired the senior detective.

Langstrom didn't reply, an insistent alarm was sounding from the apparatus and he turned his attention back to his machinery.  
"Reverse the polarity of the neutron flow." Tesla shouted at Langstrom as he frantically adjusted levers on his apparatus. Blue bolts of electricity were arcing between the steel nodes of the futuristic machinery.

"Damn it man, it's highly unstable. I'm reading transient sub-etheric fluctuations in the positron field matrix, they're increasing rapidly, if we can't get the hypergolic fluidic reactions under control the field will collapse entirely" Langstrom shouted back as he feverishly examined the meters and spun dials attempting to compensate. A low pitched electrical humming which rapidly increased in pitch and volume emanated from the apparatus, and several vacuum tubes blew out explosively in showers of sparks and flame. Langstrom quickly followed Tesla's command reversing the polarity and the insistent whine faded somewhat but didn't diminish entirely.

"The boson resonators are overloaded, the only way to shut it down now is to disconnect the portal's power supply."

Sequel Two is a Lovecraft/Giger/Alien/Prometheus crossover tale. I always believed that the Space Jockey race were part ot the pantheon of Elder Gods (I always thought a "Live" Space Jockey would bear a slight resemblance to Cthulhu), Alien was definitely inspired by Lovecraft, HR Giger was a massive HP Lovecraft fan, this story would see the meeting of the two, Gigeresque Lovecraft, a perfect match. I don't accept that the Prometheus Engineers are the Space Jockeys or that they created humanity or the Xenomorph, I believe the Aliens are a natural species. The Xenomorph itself does not feature in this story.

Space Jockeys Under the Desert.

Arabia. 1894. 

Professor Langstrom's protege Noriko mounts an expedition to a remote desert location in the Middle East based on discoveries made in sequel one. Beneath the desert sands they discover vast subterranean caverns. Exploring these caverns they discover the ruins of a massive stone city that they date at being over a million years old. There are many humanoid skeletal remains, a race of giants nine feet tall, with a thick boned skeletal structure. They discover stone tablets, carvings and ancient manuscripts that depict the worship of giant beings of alien appearance. In a temple deep within the stone city they find evidence of grotesquely mutated human remains, and a skeleton of one of the strange Gods in a sarcophagus. This "God" was fifteen feet tall, a bipedal, two armed skeletal structure, a rounded skull with two cavernous eye sockets and a long, ribbed, tubelike elephantine proboscis. 

During their exploration the scientists encounter Hyram Gant, an ex US Marine, turned bounty hunter, adventurer and soldier of fortune who has pursued a wanted tomb robber into the caverns. Exploring further they find the mutilated corpse of the tomb robber, and strange skeletal tunnels leading deeper into the caverns and in one cavern they discover a vast structure unlike anything on earth. It is a derelict Space Jockey Juggernaught space craft. The "Egg Chamber" doesn't contain facehugger eggs, but appears to have contained something vast and hideous. Noriko discovers the corpse of a famous explorer who went missing a year previously, Professor Edward Mansfield and a large portfolio of sketches, manuscripts and translations. They make camp and whilst they sleep the guards and most of the expedition personnel disappear.

Sequel Two is pretty much a "Remake" of "At the Mountains of Madness" with Space Jockeys and Engineers instead of Great Old Ones and Shoggoths, is it worth doing?

Would anyone want to read the above sequels? Is the Steampunk/Giger/Alien/Lovecraft crossover idea feasible? Does "The Seduction of St. Etienne" work as a Lovecraftian tale? This is my first completed prose fiction story, I think I have captured the Lovecraftian/Victorian prose adequately but any feedback from HP Lovecraft fans would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
